


the Hurt of Happiness

by queengabby



Series: orenda [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Children, Comedy, Eventual Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Introspection, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Tony coping kind of, he tries, papa Stark gets a SURPRISE
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 07:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16192727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queengabby/pseuds/queengabby
Summary: “Hold on a second,” Tony lifts his hand and can’t seem to pull his gaze away from the email. He’s been following along with Jarvis so far, and it all seems to line up but that would mean –“Jarvis, are you saying I don’t have just one kid, but I’ve got two?”self-indulgent side project where Tony has kids and ok I promise it's good and I won't delete it this time





	the Hurt of Happiness

 

            “—ing, Sir…”

           

 

 

            “Sir? It’s almost noon.”

            “Mmf,” is Tony’s muffled reply, his face pressed into the smooth glass of his desk. He can’t feel his left arm, and there’s a pinched nerve in his back that’s making his knee ache. When he turns his head, his elbow bumps a screwdriver off the edge of the desk. It clangs loudly when it hits the floor, and Tony groans in defeat.

            “Jarvis, remind me to turn down your volume at least sixty percent.” He says, his face stuffed in the corner of his forearm and bicep.

            “My default volume is already set at below forty percent, sir.” Jarvis replies.

            “Too high.”

            “I am recalling your complaint only last month about how my volume was too low for you to hear me properly while in the garage.” Jarvis reminds him, not without a tone of smugness. 

            “That doesn’t sound like me at all.”

            “Shall I play a recording?” he quips.

            “Skip that,” Tony finally sits up properly, rubbing his eyes and stretching out his sore leg. “I hope you’re not waking me up just because you’re lonely.”

            “It’s been eight months since the Battle of New York. As a result of your preoccupation and recuperation, your inboxes require manual maintenance.”  

            “Wait a second,” Tony stands up from his desk and squints, “Did you seriously wake me up so that I’d clean out my email junk folder?”

            “Not exactly. I would have done the task myself were it not for the…delicacy of the matter.”

            Tony sighs, organizing some of the tools he’d left out the night before and picking up the screwdriver from earlier, “Out with it Jarvis.”

            “You have several emails inquiring about your paternity.”

            Tony pauses mid crouch. “That time of year again, is it?” he stands up and knocks on the glass of his desk, bringing up a holographic screen to type into. “Filter out everything else, just show me what you’re looking at.”

            “Two months ago, an email was received on the subject of a ‘Ms. Hunter’.” Jarvis begins.

            There’s too much going on in Tony’s head at once so he sighs, “Try to make this easy for me, Jarvis.”

            “I am, one moment.” Jarvis goes quiet as the holographic screen changes to highlight search results with the name ‘Hunter’, and a second screen does a general search for the woman in question.

            “I was able to find several events you both attended, spanning from the late 1980’s until the mid 1990’s. Here is a photograph,”

            A picture pops up from the search engine, revealing that Ms. Marian Hunter is a bioengineer and author. To Tony’s chagrin, he immediately recognizes her.

            “Your fascination with redheads is –”

            “Can it, Jarvis. Just tell me what I need to know.”

            Jarvis obliges, “Strangely, the email in question is not from Ms. Marian Hunter herself, but from a Ms. _Holly_ Hunter, who claims to be the biochemist’s daughter. The email also includes two other names: Vera Fletcher and Artemis Fletcher.”

            Tony covers his face and takes a deep breath through his nose. It’s too complicated too fast. He just woke up, he could barely process what Jarvis was trying to string together. He sits down in his chair again. “Any search results on them?”

            “I did a search on Vera Fletcher – she was a professor and former colleague of Ms. Marian’s.”

            “ _Was?_ ” Tony looks up at the image of Vera Fletcher that Jarvis managed to find, presumably from the early 2000’s. She _also_ looked familiar, even more so than Marian Hunter.

            “Yes, sir. Dr. Fletcher passed away in 2008.” Jarvis formats the information to better organize the images with the names, and then opens the email so that Tony can read it himself.

            “Ms. Holly Hunter has records indicating you and her mother attended multiple events around the time Holly was conceived,” Jarvis explains (thankfully without any indication of discontent.) “And that the two of you were close despite Marian being fairly private. You were interested in her work and were photographed several times together.”

            “Sounds about right.” Tony taps his fingers on the armrest of his chair. “I read her works on biomimetics.”

            “Correct. Dr. Fletcher’s field of study was also within the realm of bionics. She and Marian Hunter worked together but then Vera left to take a sabbatical in the early 2000’s. Do you recall meeting her, sir?”

            “Yeah it was,” he shakes his head and presses a finger to his temple. “It was a few years after I heard about Extremis and,” he waves his hand flippantly, though he’s sure the expression on his face gives away how deeply this unsettles him. “You know, all that nonsense.”

            “You’ve placed your recollection within the same timeframe as Holly Hunter predicted you met Dr. Vera Fletcher. Vera Fletcher’s daughter, Artemis Fletcher, was born in early 2002.”

            “Hold on a second,” Tony lifts his hand and can’t seem to pull his gaze away from the email. He’s been following along with Jarvis so far, and it all seems to line up but that would mean –

            “Jarvis, are you saying I don’t have just _one_ kid, but I’ve got _two?”_

“To be frank, sir, the story seems entirely and completely legitimate.” 

            Tony sits with his body completely lax, incapable of moving.

            Jarvis continues despite Tony’s silence. “I have looked into many, _many_ emails of this sort before. I have done the research and I have found the inaccuracies. This one, however, is different. It is indisputably correct.”  

            “How old are they? The kids?” Tony finds himself asking. He knows he could do the math but he can’t concentrate on the numbers, he just keeps having flashbacks of the parties he went to – and the undeniable truth of it all. He _knows_ he slept with both Marian and Vera.

            “With the dates listed in the email, Holly Hunter is sixteen and her half-sister Artemis Fletcher is eleven. Also if you were curious, Holly remarks in her email that she still lives with her mother near Brooklyn, while her half-sister lives in Queens with her grandparents.”

            Tony feels an extremely violent urge to lie supine on the concrete floor – even just for a moment.

            “I’m taking a shower.” He says instead, and puts his hand in front of his body, swiping quickly with a downward motion to close the holographic projection. 

            “Sir aren’t you –”

            “Mute.”

 

 

            Tony goes for a drive. He knows he shouldn’t be running around after finding out something so life changing but he can’t help himself. After he’s showered and downed a smoothie, he’s out the door. There’s no avoiding Jarvis, Tony _knows_ that but he can’t think straight.

Malibu was all over, he had no reason to go back after the Extremis debacle. Plus, after Pepper wanted to take a break, he’d been content just commuting between the new upstate facility and the old Avengers tower. Content being a very _generous_ term. It was this awful interim period where he just didn’t know where he fit in anymore. He busied himself in the workshops or tried to occupy his time by advising SHIELD.  

He parks his car at Battery Park and stands near the boardwalk, staring out at anything, just _anything_ , he’s ridiculously desperate for inspiration. There’s a father buying his son an ice cream and Tony shoves his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose before walking down a pathway at the waterfront. He sits on a bench facing the river, looking as inconspicuous as possible while pondering _what the hell_ he’s supposed to do now. He wonders at what point in his life is it too late for him to change his mind, and if he’s already crossed that bridge by now.

“Unmute,” Tony says after he’s back in the car and he’s put the keys in the ignition. He sighs, and takes off his sunglasses. “Hey Jarvis.”

“Hello, sir.” Jarvis greets as the air conditioning kicks in.

“You mind looking for that kid’s address in the email?” he squeezes the bridge of his nose with his thumb and pointer finger.

“Uploading the navigation to your dashboard.”

Tony puts the car into drive, not giving himself any more time for second thoughts, “Thanks Jarvis.”

             

+

 

            “Holly can you grab the basil for me, please?” Marian asks, stirring a pot of fresh tomato soup. She shuffles over to the frying pan where she’s making two grilled cheese sandwiches and flips the thick bread with a spatula.

            “Here,” Holly hands her mother a handful of fresh basil leaves from the balcony as the front doorbell rings. “I’ll stir, mom.”

            Marian hands her the spoon and wipes her hands on her apron, “Turn down the heat on the sandwiches too.” She says, and turns to see her daughter adjusting the stovetop dials. “Oh, sweetheart, put your hair up! You’ll get it in the soup.”

            Turning back to the hallway, Marian unlocks the front door and opens it without any ceremony. And then she stares.

            “Oh my god,” she murmurs and Tony Stark is looking back at her.

            “Hi,” he says, his hands clasped in front of him. “Marian,”

            “Tony,” she replies, and then gathers herself enough to step out onto the front porch with him. She stares for a long moment, knowing full well how uncomfortable he must be, but doing it anyway. She’s wringing her hands, and Tony can probably see the engagement ring on her finger.

            “I’m sorry,” he says, “Is this a bad time? I can uh,”

            “No, no,” Marian shakes her head, trying to gather her thoughts, “It’s not that, I’m just trying to think of what to say.” She gives him a rueful smile.

            “I can think of a few choice words I probably deserve.” He says, and he sounds so genuine that it makes her crack a smile.

            Philanderer, maybe, _sure_ , but Tony had also been her friend. His fascination with science had always been real – his interest in her work had been sincere. Despite her not telling him about Holly, that had been _her_ choice. The timing had always been wrong, something was always coming up, they were always busy. They had both made their choices, Marian just as much as Tony.

            “Want a grilled cheese?” she asks, and he glances up, hesitant and worried. “If you’re wondering about Holly, she’s inside.”

            “She…” he points to the door and then to himself.

            “Yeah.” Marian shrugs, trying to gain some sort of levity, “I wasn’t with anyone else at the time so,”

            He looks as white as a sheet.

            “I could call up Maury, if you want.” She jokes and his face is blank until realization sets and he lets out a breathless sound – something between a laugh and a sigh.

            “Come on, I’ll get you a glass of water.” Marian offers, nodding her head towards the door. Tony visibly swallows, but follows her inside.

            He closes the door after him and watches Marian walk down the hallway towards the kitchen. Tony catches a glimpse of another person in the kitchen, overshadowed by Marian as she murmurs something in her ear. When she turns, the teenager turns around too.

            Holly’s pulls her dark brown hair free from a scrunchie as she steps away from the stove. She isn’t smiling, but her eyes – admittedly the same color as Tony’s – are looking at him hopefully.

            “Hi,” she says after a beat, rolling up the sleeves of her hoodie and reaching out her right hand to shake his.

            “Oh, honey,” Marian goes to stop her daughter because she remembers Tony’s phobia but then he reaches out his hand too.

            “Hi,” he replies, shaking her hand briefly. He can’t stop looking at her, and it’s strange because he knows this is his kid but she’s not a kid anymore. He completely missed the stage where this sort of thing was supposed to sink in. “Holly?”

            “Yeah, that’s me.”

            “Saw your email.”

            “I figured,” she shrugged, and then she cracks a smile finally. “This is totally weird.” She says, and laughs despite how nervous she feels.

            “Why don’t you two sit down?” Marian offers, and then Holly nods, pointing to the table in the corner of the kitchen. Holly lets Tony sit down and then she rushes over to her mom at the stove again, murmuring something about getting the soup.

             His daughter (which is still too new to comprehend) brings over two bowls of soup and half a grilled cheese for each of them. She sits down with one foot hooked under her thigh while Marian returns with two tall glasses of ice water.

            “Thanks mom,” Holly says before she turns her attention to Tony. “I don’t know if you’re allergic to anything,” she nods her head to the lunch that had been placed in front of him. “But it’s just tomato basil soup and grilled cheese,”

            “I uh, don’t know if I can eat.”

            “Oh,” Holly watches him for a moment before she pushes the glass of water closer to him. “You should drink something at least, you look pale.”

            Tony does as instructed in a daze. The ice is cold, and it brings him back, somewhat.

            “Y’know Mr. Stark, that email wasn’t to guilt trip you.” Holly munches on the half of her sandwich, dipping it into the soup. “Mom’s not mad, I’m not mad.”

            “I don’t understand.” He says, and Marian sits down across from him at the table, taking off her apron. He points to Holly and looks at Marian. “You _should_ be mad.”

            “Why? You don’t seem mad that I kept this from you.” Marian says, and Tony doesn’t know how to answer.

            “That’s because –” he sighs, and Holly pokes his water glass, inciting him to take another drink. “You were my friend, you were busy, you’re successful and smart, and I can think of lots of reasons to keep this type of thing from me.”

            “Well there you go.” Marian pauses while eating her soup to point her spoon at him, “You were my friend, too, Tony.”

            Holly glances between her mother and Tony, and then Marian looks up again.

            “Eat some soup.” Marian looks at Tony. He glances down at the bowl in front of him, the smell of basil inviting and too familiar to deny.

 

+

 

            It had become much less awkward when Tony realized he wasn’t going to be attacked on sight anymore. Both Marian and Holly were extremely relaxed, and assured in their decision to bring him in now.

            “Mom’s getting married in the spring,” Holly explains, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands while she lounges on the loveseat in the living room. Tony was nursing his second glass of water in his hands, sitting in an armchair across the coffee table from her. He had managed to eat lunch, much to his own surprise.

            “Oh?” Tony asks, curious.

            “Yeah, her fiancée is really nice. They met when I was in middle school.”

            “We both work in the same department,” Marian walks into the living room with a cup of coffee and sits next to her daughter. “I was transferred around the time Vera died. We’ve been together for five years.”

            “Can you tell me about Vera? What happened, I mean?” he asks.

            Marian looks sullen for a moment, and sighs, “Vera developed hypertension when she became a professor,” she blows on her coffee. “She was teaching in the winter of 2007 when she came down with pneumonia. It got worse and worse, and then she just couldn’t fight it. Died in early February of 2008.”

            “I’m sorry.”

            “You’re saying that a lot,” Marian smiles, “Vera and I talked a lot after she gave birth to Artie.” She set down her coffee, “Since Vera died around the time when Artie had just started school, custody was handed over to Vera’s parents.”

            “So Artie’s living with her grandpa and grandma,” Holly concludes, wiping her hot chocolate mustache. “But since we’re half-sisters, she comes to visit me and mom.”

            “Her grandparents are quite understanding, though they’re adamant that Artemis stays in Queens until she’s done school.” Marian finishes, and watches Tony for a moment. “I know this is a lot of information at once, so if you need a break…”

            “Yeah, maybe.” Tony finishes his glass of water, the ice clinking pleasantly when he sets it down on the coaster in front of him.

            He stands up and looks around, “Where’s the bathroom?”

            Marian stands too, her mug empty, “Upstairs to your left.”

            When Tony leaves the living room and Holly hears the bathroom door close, she follows her mother into the kitchen. “Should I fill another glass of water for him?” she asks, and Marian smiles.

 

           

            In the bathroom, Tony douses his face with cold water, leaning over the sink with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He stares down at the drain, counts backwards for three minutes, and then dries his face with a hand towel. He turns on the overhead fan and sits on the ledge of the bathtub, opening his phone.

            “Sir I should inform you that your heart rate is unusually high.”

            “Yeah Jarvis, thanks. I know.”

            “Shall I open up some breathing exercises?” he suggests.

            “Already did ‘em.”

            “Perhaps you should do them again.”

            Tony closes his eyes and sits forward so that his elbows are balanced on his knees. “Just stop talking for like 5 minutes, alright?”

            “Very well, sir.”

            Tony sighs, in and out, in and out, until his heartbeat isn’t thrumming loudly in his ears anymore. It’s gotten easier but it’s still not easy enough. He hopes this is the type of slow progress he should be looking for.

            He shuts off the bathroom fan and walks towards the staircase. On his way down, he glances at the wall of photos that are hung parallel to the bannister. He recognizes the photos of Marian when she was younger, and there’s a family photo of her with Holly and who Tony presumes is her fiancée. There’s one photo in particular that catches his attention: Holly and a younger girl. Before he gets a chance to look closer, Holly comes down the hallway.

            “Feeling better?” she asks, and hands him his glass, full again.

            “Yeah,” he nods once, taking the water from her. “Thanks.” He takes a drink and then points to the photo in question. “I was just looking at this.”

            “Oh that’s Artie,” she explains, pointing to the younger brunette with cropped hair being held in Holly’s arms. “It was the summer before I started high school. We took a trip to the beach and I got a really bad sunburn.”

            He quirks a brow at Holly, who laughs in reply.

            “Art’s the responsible sibling.”

            “Is she visiting you anytime soon?” he asks and she shrugs, “Like, are you gonna tell her about me visiting or—?”

            “Oh!” Holly’s eyes go a little wider in realization. “Yeah, she knows I sent you an email. I was going to give her a call sometime tonight just to give her an update.”

            “Giving her a warning?” Tony jokes but there’s a level of vulnerability there, too.

            Holly smiles, and it’s gentler than before, “Mr. Stark, trust me. There’s no way she’ll be disappointed.”

 

 

+

 

The next weekend, Marian asks if Tony wants to bring Holly to Queens for a visit with Artemis. Though meeting the oldest sibling had gone particularly well, he still feels nauseous at the prospect of meeting the youngest. Tony didn’t consider himself very good with children, that was more Captain America’s speed. Despite Black Widow’s name, Natasha also came to mind – since she had been stuck babysitting him while he died of palladium poisoning a few years back. Or maybe Fury (though he’d have to lose the trench coat).

“You need a paper bag?” Holly asks after they’re both in his car.

“What?” he glances over at her, frowning in confusion. She had been quiet for most of the car ride, only speaking once they were near Artemis’s address.     

“Well your breathing is kind of labored. We can take a break, if you want. I have some change, we can go to the convenience store and get a hot drink –”

“That’s not necessary, I feel fine.” Tony deflects automatically.

“Cool, you missed the street by the way.” Holly says, and when Tony presses on the brake in surprise, he looks over to see her smiling.

“ _If_ you were worried,” she starts, and smiles when she sees him about to object, “I know you aren’t _of course,_ but try to humor me,” Holly clasps her hands together, “I know Artie will like you. Promise. The only thing you should concern yourself with is her grandparents.”

“You mentioned they were protective.” He turns onto the right street.

“Since Artie’s mom died, yes. Though she was too young to really understand, they remember pretty vividly.”

“Good to know.”

“Is me saying this stuff making things better or worse?” Holly asks, genuine concern in her voice.

“Bit of both, but you can keep going.”

“It’s here,” she points to a narrow looking brick house on the left-hand side of the street. Though there are many places in Queens that are bustling, Artemis’s grandparents live in a primarily residential area. The sidewalks are wide and the trees that line the streets act as an idyllic canopy overhead.

When they park on the side of the street, Holly is the first to open her door and get out of the car. She’s already grinning from ear to ear when she sees a woman standing on the front steps, who Tony presumes to be Vera Fletcher’s mother.

“Hello sweetheart,” the lady greets Holly, giving her a gentle hug when she reaches the front door. “What’s this?” she asks.

“We picked up some iced tea and some snacks before we came over, that’s why we’re kind of late.” Holly explains, handing a bag to Mrs. Fletcher.

Tony lags a little, carrying the second grocery bag with a watermelon inside. He suddenly feels like bringing gifts was a bad idea. At the same time, he figures it’s a little late for first impressions – considering they’ve known about Artemis’s paternity longer than he has.

“Mr. Stark, come on!” Holly is still smiling, and so Tony steps up to the front door. Mrs. Fletcher stands in front of him, her glare severe.

“Hi,” he tries, and her hands stay clasped in front of her.

“Hello Mr. Stark,” she greets him, voice firm. Though he considers her guarded smile a mild success.

He glances at Holly and at her nod of encouragement, he holds the bag with the watermelon up. “For you.”

Mrs. Fletcher blinks, staring at the bag, and then she takes it in her hands.

“C’mon Mr. Stark,” Holly says, gently tugging his arm inside and past her grandmother.

They walk through the kitchen, and then Holly runs to the patio door, opening it and greeting the people outside. Tony catches a glimpse of a young girl – Artie, and an older gentleman who Tony assumes is Mr. Fletcher.

And then he notices Artie is missing her left arm.

It takes him a second to understand what he’s seeing, and that it isn’t just his eyes playing a trick on him. Mr. Fletcher blocks his vision as he enters the kitchen through the patio door, as Mrs. Fletcher steps out.

“Hello Mr. Stark!” the elderly man greets him with a gentle smile. He walks over and shakes his hand politely. “How are you?”

“I’m,” he swallows, nods, “I’m doing okay, how are you?”

“I’m well. It’s nice of you to visit, Holly is very excited.” Mr. Fletcher explains happily. Tony is completely fixated on Artie’s missing arm, dumbfounded and struck into silence. “Artie is out on the patio –”

“Where’s her, um,” he gestures to his own arm, his throat tight. He can’t explain any further, he doesn’t know why he’s asking but he doesn’t understand why Holly wouldn’t mention it.

“I’m sorry Mr. Stark, I thought Holly would have said something.” Mr. Fletcher says, looking out at Artemis who is cross-legged on the patio, holding her iced tea in her good hand. “I had taken Artie to Manhattan island for a day trip,” he puts his hands in his pockets, “Coincidentally, that was the same day as the Battle of New York.”

Tony feels his expression drop to that of shocked comprehension. Even before Artemis’ grandfather has time to completely explain himself, Tony is already reeling – having put together all the pieces of the puzzle the moment _that day_ was mentioned.

“Where were _you_?” Tony asks reflexively, his tone not accusing but probing, _searching_ for the answers.

“My leg was stuck under a car.” Mr. Fletcher replies, his hands in his pockets. “Artie didn’t know what to do so she resorted to pushing, but it wouldn’t budge. One of the aliens spotted us and,” he points to his own left arm, where Artemis’s shoulder ends. “I yelled for her to run but,” he looks out at the patio where Artemis is still sitting.

Tony stares, and stares, and stares, and he can’t seem to work any words out of his mouth. He realizes, somewhere in his mind, that he’s having another panic attack and he’s going to reach his personal record since Extremis.

“I have to, uh,” he starts, and he’s gripping the kitchen counter like it’s the only thing keeping him vertical. He hears the patio door slide open.

“Hey, what did you do?” Tony can hear Holly ask, and she’s frowning at Artie’s grandfather. She walks into the kitchen and sets down her glass, standing next to Tony.

“Nothing, Holly, nothing.” Mr. Fletcher puts up his hands in defence.

“Really? It looks like something.” Holly folds her arms over her chest. “I thought I said to be nice.”

“He asked about Artie’s injury, I just told him how it happened.” Mr. Fletcher explains and Holly shakes her head.

“I was going to do it when the time was right, and the right _way_.” Holly replies, her voice hard.

“He needed to know, it happened when—”

“This is hard for everyone,” Holly interrupts him, and Tony realizes how _angry_ she seems. “Mr. Stark included!”

He looks up from his feet and sees Artemis looking at him for the first time, brown eyes and long lashes, and it’s too familiar, it’s too real too fast. He’s running in the opposite direction, stumbling through the entryway.

“Mr. Stark!” Holly calls after him, and then he can hear her voice, hear the patio door slide open again, and now arguing something _loudly_ while he retreats. Out the front door, and then his knees are buckling before he can get down the stairs. Grabbing the railing, he falls back onto the step and takes deep breaths.

“Mr. Stark, wait—” Holly says, having caught up to him. She’s breathless, her face flushed red from anger and exertion.

“Sorry I have to,” he can’t look, can’t look, can’t even _look_ at her.

He’s up again, mindless at this point, already in his car before he notices, and then he’s gone.


End file.
